I am sick and tired of picking you up off the floor, of all the damage you cause around you... the burned carpets, the holes in the wall from the furniture you fall into. You are covered in bruises and scrapes, but yet you continue to use. You NEVER remember the things you do, or the things you say to me when you are like this... you black out and eventually pass out... that is when the peace comes for me... the ONLY fucking peace I ever get lately.

Now THIS?? ... you are going to kill yourself ? ... I ask you to put the razor blade down but you are too shitfaced to form words... you run to the other side of the bed to escape me and threaten me with actually doing it this time. You tell me your life is shit and nobody will care... you tell me you have nothing, you FEEL nothing... and it isn't worth going on. I remind you that we love you... of all your friends that love you.... of the positive aspects , but none of it matters now. This is the drugs talking, if you were straight this wouldn't be happening. If you were straight we wouldn't be where we are today... IF YOU WERE ONLY FUCKIN STRAIGHT!

This isn't the first time you have threatened to do this, but it is the most serious of the threats. This time you have kicked it up a notch and taken out the razor blade you had hidden under the mattress, to prove it. What am I supposed to do in a situation like this? Words bounce off you, threats are useless, rationing with you is a mute point... what do I do? .. I have no idea how to react or diffuse this when you are THIS fucked up.

I do the only thing I can think of.... I grab for your arm, then I grab for your throat and pin you to the wall while I scream incoherent words at your twisted and contorted face. The blade falls as I throw you to the ground, the temptation to stomp your skull to a pulp while you are down there is overwhelming and I consider, for more than a few seconds, snapping your neck to end all this suffering and pain... both yours and mine. I can't do anything but shake... that's all I can do, the rage inside of me is burning, I hate you for making our life like this, I hate you for putting me through this... I just hate you right now, but for now it's over. Sure, you threaten that when I come home tomorrow I will find you dead... but I've heard that before and for now the drama is over. For NOW we both have another day together, for what that's worth.

Morning comes, how do I face you ? .. What do I say ? In the back of my mind I pray you won't wake up, that I will find your lifeless body in bed, still and quiet... But that's not my luck. You will wake again and not remember anything, except for the bruises and sore spots on your battered body. Then the questions will come, and the denial... followed by more & more pills. The cycle continues and I don't know how to stop it... I don't know if I should stop it? Maybe it's what's supposed to happen to you, to us. Maybe THIS is how it ends.

I wish you'd die...actually more than you do.